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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047119">Flight Chances</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulrissaRahany/pseuds/PaulrissaRahany'>PaulrissaRahany</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Heartstrings - Fandom, Manifest (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, Multi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:53:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulrissaRahany/pseuds/PaulrissaRahany</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Montego Air 828 takes off from Jamaica in 2013, they expected to land in New York City hours later. Instead, the flight takes off and lands in New York City 1945. The passengers of 828 are forced to look into outside forces that they may not even believe in to make it back home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Flight Chances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Honestly, I really wanted to find a way to explain what may have happened in the five years that they were gone. I hope y'all enjoy this labor of love, because my mind works in crazy ways.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>New York City<br/>
April 7, 1945<br/>
Week 1</p><p>“Your honor.” </p><p>They’d been trying to move forward with this case for months. Everything was coming along perfect for the defense and her years in the prosecution allowed her to pick holes in their cases. Genevieve was on her way to making herself a well-known defense lawyer on the East Coast. After her stint in Tennessee, she had been convinced that her loss would be the defining moment in her career. </p><p>Instead, it had only been the start of it. She’d learned from her mistake and had switched her principles. Genevieve Carson had found her niche of cases representing small town folks trying to stand up to the large corporations and government injustices. Perhaps the pay wasn’t as hefty, but the proud glances of her family had said it all. </p><p>“I said, Mr. Thomas, that I will not be ruling on the matter today. The prosecution wants a quick trial, but I’ve said multiple times that this will be a drawn-out fight. Ms. Carson has presented her clients side very well. Court will re-engage October 19. You’re dismissed.”</p><p>The loud noise of the gavel hitting the wood caused Genny to jump in surprise.</p><p>It wasn’t the mistrial that she had wanted, but it was the chance to fight another day. That’s all she could ask for at this point in the trial. Genevieve felt her client’s desperate hand cling onto her own—their face showing their own dismay at their opportunity to potentially win the case. </p><p>“We aren’t finished yet,” she said stubbornly. Genny moved to wrap her arms around Mrs. Chaffer. “Justice will be shown.” </p><p>Moments where her clients were sobbing in relief were why she did this job. Due process would be given, but she finally realized that it was only provided when good people sided with the right people. </p><p>---</p><p>The first sensation was cold. He didn’t remember much—except his frantic hold onto his son as they faced the turbulence and bright lights around them. Ben Stone knew that he shouldn’t feel cold. They had heavy jackets—the plane was regulated—but he didn’t feel that familiar press of a seat behind him. </p><p>“Ben!” </p><p>His name caused him to jerk his eyes open to the scene around him. Mic was crawling her way towards him. They were surrounded by grass and trees.</p><p>“Ben, there’s something wrong! The plane! It’s gone!” </p><p>Nothing made sense, but he felt his consciousness begin to pull him back under. Nothing was right, but surely if they slept a bit longer. </p><p>“Oh God—where’s Cal?” Mic’s panicked voice cut through his haze. Something was terribly wrong. So wrong that more people on the plane were crying out for their loved ones. </p><p>Once Mic finally reached Ben, her hand reached down to cup the back of his neck. “Something’s happened, Ben. The plane’s gone—we’re all here—alive!” </p><p>The mixture of her words and the scared reaction of his sister had Ben finally reacting—finally trying to sit up to find his son. “Look—You look for Cal,” he instructed. She was clearer minded than he currently was. The people trying to figure out what was going on would be his mission. </p><p>Just like Mic had warned, there was no sign of the plane. Though there were plenty of luggage sets to account for everyone’s trip. He felt his phone in his pocket. He watched the panic begin to capture everyone’s attention. </p><p>“Fuck! Please—please—” A young woman was grappling onto a laptop that seemed to no longer turn on. </p><p>Several people were in hysterics staring at their phones. “Our phones! They won’t call anyone! There’s no service!” </p><p>A quick glance at his own phone confirmed their words, but it didn’t explain the most obvious question. </p><p>How did they end up in the middle of a forest? </p><p>“Dad? Dad!” </p><p>It was a familiar, so welcomed voice that Ben found himself frantically looking towards the noise. Mic was walking behind his son—Cal’s bright face running towards him. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to wonder off! I just wanted to try and find help for everyone, but there’s so much woods. I don’t…well…. I didn’t know where to go.” </p><p>“Cal—” There were a million reasons to reprimand him. There was his illness—the sheer fear of being deserted without a plane—and the fact that he could have been lost in the forest. Instead, Ben fell for the easiest words. “You’re okay,” he murmured. </p><p>“I’m Captain Bill Daly—I’m the, well, I’m the pilot. I don’t know where the…” </p><p>Ben knew it was useless. No one would want to listen to the man who had abandoned their flight and caused them all to be lost in the middle of the woods. This wasn’t going to end well for any of them, especially if they turned on one another. There were too many people screaming at the Captain and no one getting the necessary answers. </p><p>“We’re no good arguing at each other if someone’s hurt.” Ben called out above the crowd. He may be a professor, but there was the ‘loud’ voice that was taught to any teacher that seemed to come in handy even with the adults. “Something is definitely wrong, but I doubt the pilot would have the ability to individually remove us without causing any of us to wake up. Something else is going on here.” </p><p>“So, you think we stumbled this far out into the forest?” It was a clear challenge. A clear bait to try and get Ben to lose his temper. Except, he knew he was right. This was an impossible feat for several men—a near miraculous event for only one man. </p><p>“I think—we need to see if there’s a doctor on board. We have several people who may need to be examined. There may be head injuries,” he admitted. “My son—my son has cancer. We all want to get home to our families, but we have to be smart about it.” </p><p>“He’s right,” the woman who had been struggling with her laptop stepped up. “I’m a doctor—if anyone needs to be checked out…I want to help.” </p><p>The entire group gave a collective sigh. Whether it was of relief or annoyance, Ben couldn’t tell. He just knew that someone had to be the one to step up or they’d never get to the bottom of this mess. </p><p>---</p><p>“It was a good day, Momma,” Genevieve promised her mother. “I think Linda appreciated her story finally being out in the open. What the City of New York is doing, well, it’s criminal. I couldn’t let myself sleep at night if I allowed them to continue their bullying tactics.</p><p>The worried voice of her mother made Genny smile as she placed her tea pot on the hot stove top. “I’m not going off the bones,” she promised. “These are true facts—proven by weeks’ worth of evidence and hard work.” </p><p>There was a transition period after she’d learned to use the bones. She’d never think herself as strong as her biological mother, but she felt the surge of ideas, feelings, and instinct that seemed to be with her for her entire life. Her migraines had stopped—her head seemed clearer than previous years.</p><p>“I try to read them twice a week. Never for my cases, of course, but for general health and wellness. It’s nice to check in on people in the mountains,” she murmured. “Momma, I’d better go. I love you,” she promised. “Say goodnight to Daddy?” </p><p>Things were going so well for her life. For the first time in a while, she felt like perhaps her future would work out exactly how her bones made her feel. </p><p>She was safe—settled—and loved. The rest would fall into place soon enough. </p><p>---</p><p>“We should search in groups,” Mic deducted. “I’ll head the first party.” </p><p>“Who are you? Why should we trust— “ </p><p>“I’m a New York City police officer. I know the city inside and out. Once we get to where we need to go, then I’ll have the connections to get a search party out here.” Mic grabbed her useless cell along with the emergency flashlight kit that had somehow been dragged outside the plane. “I think I should take three—maybe four people?” </p><p>“I should come,” Captain Daly offered. “This is my plane. I’ll be the person they want to talk to first.” </p><p>“No, you’re the only one who has any amount of control over the group,” Ben told him. “I’ll go with Mic, but I need someone to stay with my son. I’d prefer if— “ </p><p>Saanvi, the woman who had claimed to be a doctor, stepped forward. “You don’t know me, but I promise that I’m a doctor. I’m probably not going to be much help searching for a way out, but I can watch the younger kids while parents try and find more information.” </p><p>“She’s probably our best bet,” Mic agreed. “We need to keep a home base. It’ll allow us the freedom to walk around while knowing that the Captain and a doctor are here with everyone else.” </p><p>“We have enough supplies to last us the night. There are several suitcases…I can build a fire to keep off the cold.” Daly confirmed. </p><p>It was easy to tell that things were falling into place. Ben didn’t want to leave Cal, but he was also in no condition to be hiking through the woods. It’d cause a relapse into an episode. It was something they couldn’t afford. “Stay close to them, Cal.” He was a great kid—he’d listen even if no one else in the group would. Ben shrugged off his sweater and wrapped it around his son. He was cold, but a brisk walk through the woods would keep him warm. “I’ll be back—I love you.” </p><p>Cal nodded, shivering as he allowed his body to relax into the sweater. “I’ll stay here, Dad.” </p><p>---</p><p>It was impossible. Except, Ben was staring right at it. They weren’t in the woods. They were in an undeveloped piece of land outside of New York City. The lights were bright and shining through the woody haze, except it wasn’t the skyline that they had left a mere week ago. It seemed like the cars were something out of a past magazine. The dark of night covered most things, but it was obvious that the buildings weren’t just disfigured from the time of night. </p><p>“This isn’t…” Mic glanced at him, before she nervously looked around them. “This isn’t right.” </p><p>“No, this is impossible.” Adrian corrected. </p><p>“It’s a prank,” Kelly stated. “It’s clearly a joke from the airlines. They’ll certainly be hearing from my lawyer. This is abandonment.” </p><p>“It’s not a prank,” Ben heard himself say to the group. Everything that had changed couldn’t be switched easily. It was entire buildings missing. The cars were out of a home magazine from the 1900’s. He couldn’t see too much else, but he had a feeling that there were more changes that he had only yet to see. </p><p>“So, you think we—actually went back in time? You’re insane.” Adrian claimed. </p><p>Mic scoffed. “I think—that our plan isn’t going to work. We can’t drag a hundred plus people into this to be questioned. They’d lock us up—send us to a mental— “ </p><p>“We get the picture,” Ben reminded her. “We…can’t rely on anything or anyone.”</p><p>“Can we even trust ourselves at this point? How do we know that this isn’t just a different view of the city?” Adrian asked. “Perhaps we landed on a different…” </p><p>“I’ve lived inside and out of the city for my entire life. There is no way that we’d be missing whole buildings no matter where we viewed it from.” Mic murmured.'</p><p>---</p><p>New York City<br/>
June 21, 1945<br/>
Week 15</p><p>It had been impossible to explain their situations to anyone else. They still had their phones—some laptops—and plenty of tablets that shouldn’t belong in the current year. The survivors of Montego 828 were stuck in New York City circa 1945. Ben had taken an immediate liking to trying to solve the mystery, but each turn felt like the wrong one. The survivors tried to meet every other week to discuss their current situations, but it only took one bad interaction to shatter the loyalty that they had tentatively built. </p><p>When Kelly had gone to the press in hysterics about being from the future and had been found dead a day later….</p><p>It had seemed like their questions had partially been answered. Whatever had happened—it was better to keep silent. They were free to study the possibilities, if they remained under the radar and never spoke about what had happened to them. </p><p>The fact that people were coming home from war meant that their untimely arrival wasn’t exactly questioned. It was pure luck that they’d managed to snatch an apartment meant to home war survivors until he’d gotten a job. While Mic’s job was out of the question, he found that a teaching job provided enough income to rent a nice three-bedroom apartment in downtown New York City. The job also provided him access to the school’s library which was lined with wall to wall encyclopedias. </p><p>While some people may have struggled with what this meant for their lives, Ben found that he was too focused on his family. Mic and Cal were his main concerns. While he wanted to cry out for help—it was clear that it would never safely happen. Instead, he kept himself steadied on their future. He had to focus on keeping them safe until he could focus all his energy on getting back to Olive---back to Grace.</p><p>Their family had never been torn apart like this—</p><p>--no one’s family had been torn apart like this—</p><p>but Ben knew that she was strong. </p><p>He felt like he had essentially lost a daughter and a wife in the midst of all this chaos— even a father—a mother—but he had a hope that was desperately trying to beat out his sensible side. </p><p>“Ben, I’m going to drop Cal off at school, but I’m planning on coming back. I think there might be some theories in the science book that you brought back last night.” Mic held Cal’s jacket open so he could step into it. “You could come home earlier than usual—instead of spending time at the library all evening.” </p><p>“I’ll be home tonight,” he agreed. After Dr. Bahl gave Cal a tentative bill of clean health—as much as she could without modern medicine, he had thrown himself into researching how to get home, instead of curing cancer. “I thought family night.” </p><p>No one missed the huff and the foot tap of the youngest boy.</p><p>“Yeah, without half of our family,” Cal muttered. “What’s the point?” </p><p>Mic sighed as she bent down to hug her nephew tightly. “We’re all fighting to get back to them. It’s not the same—but it will be.” </p><p>Ben would push himself until he was able to bring his entire family back together, but for now, he needed to keep Cal’s energy up. “We’re going to get back home,” he promised. “I can’t explain how yet, but I know we’ll make it through this.” </p><p>“I just want my family.” His hands crossed over his body, before he leaned into his aunt’s grasp. “I’m not trying to be difficult, but I miss Olive—I miss Mom. This isn’t fair.” </p><p>“How about we grab some street food on our way?” Mic questioned. </p><p>“I know what you’re doing,” Cal told her. “But, at least I won’t be hungry for school.”</p><p>Neither adults could hide their smirks from one another. No, the situation was shitty, but they had to make do with what they were given.</p><p>---</p><p>New York City<br/>
September 15, 1945<br/>
Week 23</p><p>Genevieve had watched the family have dinner for the past three weeks. She always brought her work with her—buried in the current facts of her case. It was an ongoing process and she found herself turning the diner into a personal office space on Friday evenings. Yet, she felt a twinge of a migraine the first Friday that the family had walked past her. The second week, she nearly reached out to introduce herself, but the third week she hadn’t been able to stop her foot from tapping against the floor as she knew what was going to happen. </p><p>She had a strong resistance to using the bones with people she didn’t know. There was something crazy about walking up to someone and introducing yourself while also reading their potential future. </p><p>Yet, the smile of the young boy at his—mother? No—relative – caused her to slip her hand unconsciously into her purse until she felt the familiar velvet of the bag holding her most precious possessions.</p><p>She could tell that the family was struggling. It wasn’t just one person and it wasn’t just about a situation. It was as if none of this was meant to have happened. It was clear that they were all tied into some type of pain. It was dark and angry, washing over her like a harsh wave. It’d hurt them all eventually. </p><p>That’s when Genevieve knew she’d be breaking her own rules concerning her abilities. </p><p>“Waiter?” She questioned as she pulled enough bills for her own meal out of her wallet. Gen didn’t bother protecting her case files as she shoved them quickly into her briefcase and tipped the woman. This could potentially go horribly. </p><p>The family was only a few feet in front of her as she walked up to their table. Immediately, three gazes were glancing her direction. </p><p>“Hi! I’m—really sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you?” Genevieve smiled and nervously swayed on her heels. No one spoke up which gave her the freedom to quickly continue. “I’ve watched—well noticed that y’all come in every Friday. I’d like to pay for your dinner tonight. I’m Genevieve Carson. I’m a lawyer with a firm in D.C.—and none of this really matters nor why I wanted to talk to you.” </p><p>The man was confused, but the woman seemed to find her humorous at least.</p><p>“Hi, I’m Michaela Stone. This is my brother Ben and his son Cal,” she answered. “You really don’t have to pay for our meal. This is the best way to keep some normalcy.” </p><p>It was an odd statement and Genevieve cocked her head to the side as she watched Ben grimaced at her words. Yet, that didn’t stop him from speaking up. </p><p>“The war--” he supplied. “It caused all of us to be happy just to have dinner together.” </p><p>Of course, it made sense, but Genevieve kept getting pain in her head as she put off admitting why she had walked up to them. </p><p>“I’m a lawyer, but my true passion is reading people.” Her hand fumbled in her pocketbook for her business card. It held her professional number and address. It would be a way of letting them contact her if they truly wanted the help. </p><p>“Like—fortunes?” Michaela scoffed, but it was nicer than what Ben eventually said. </p><p>Ben didn’t want to be propositioned at dinner. As reliable as the woman seemed, it wasn’t worth this. “We don’t need that. We don’t believe in them.”</p><p>“No! I don’t…no, it’s not clear. You still control your future, but my insights are more inclinations of your future.” Gen immediately shook her head, but realized that they were a family that was very much closed off to the idea of clairvoyance. </p><p>Michaela smiled, but still shook her head. “Listen, you seem really nice, but— “ </p><p>“I get it! You don’t know me, but I’m in New York for a bit longer while I work a case. If you do decide that you want any…help, I feel as if I should give you my card.” She offered it out to Ben—watching as he glanced at Mic, before taking the card from her. </p><p>“Ms. Carson, thank you. I doubt we’ll be contacting you. We don’t really believe this type of thing works for us,” Ben murmured. </p><p>“Sometimes it’s not about believing,” Genevieve pointed out. “Sometimes it’s about listening to what’s already happening.”</p><p>Still, she wouldn’t force her gifts on other people. It never ended well in her favor. “Good day, then,” she said. “It was nice to meet you—Ben, Michaela—Cal.” Genevieve nodded her head at the young boy, before feeling a familiar spark. </p><p>Perhaps the older Stones didn’t believe, but Genny could feel that the youngest did.</p>
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